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BY 

ROBERT TILNEY 



AUTHOR OF 
"GLEANINGS FROM POETIC FIELDS" 




THE BIDDLE PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA 



***** 

1 



1 



Copyright, 1909, by 
Robert Tilney 



*^< ' 



©CLA25120R 



To my dear wife, who shared in the joys of 
the Holiday Trip, and to those dear friends to 
whose hospitality we were so much indebted, 
this little book is affectionately inscribed. 



CONTENTS. 
A Summer Holiday. 
I. Jamestown. 
II. Newport. 

III. Manomet. 

IV. Salem and Marblehead. 
V. Homeward Bound. 

Nature. 

The Approach of Spring. 

To J. R. H. 

Thanksgiving. 

Easter. 

Come O ye Children. 

Evening. 

A Day with Nature. 

Dolobran. 

Night. 

The Blind Girl's Lament. 

The Enchanted Harp. 

Do It Now. 

Thou Art Like unto a Flower. 

Trolleying. 

April. 

Norwegian Stave Song. 

The Broken Wing. 

Shew me thy Ways Lord. 

Go ye also and Work in the Vineyard. 

"Gateway Beautiful." 

Maurice River. 

Friendship. 

C. Q. D. 

Robert E. Peary. 



A Summer ffol&ajj 



A SUMMER HOLIDAY. 
I. 

JAMESTOWN. 

The floating palace leaves its port 

And we are on our way 
To old Rhode Island's famed resort 

On Narragansett Bay. 

The pleasures of this evening trip 

We may not hope to tell; 
The hours spent on this stately ship* 

Will long in memory dwell. 

The glory of the setting sun 

Illumes the Sound to-day, 
Next morn we see its course begun 

In beauty on the Bay. 

And when at last, by boat and rail, 
Our journey's end we reach, 

Our waiting friends we gladly hail 
On Jamestown's sunny beach. 

And soon with eager haste, we stand 
Where they, our dear ones, live; 

Where loving heart and earnest hand 
A cordial welcome give. 

Oh what a lovely place is this, 

In which to rest or roam, 
A promise sweet of perfect bliss, 

An ideal summer home. 



*The "Commonwealth." 



Beyond — the water sparkling bright; 

Around — the verdant green, 
Where bay and landscape both unite 

To make a charming scene. 

Across the watery thoroughfare, 
The far-famed Newport lies; 

While many a home and gardens rare 
The west shore beautifies. 

Here, resting in the porch's shade, 
Where blows the cool sea breeze, 

We list the various noises made; 
The rustling of the trees, 

The cackling of the busy hen, 

Or chanticleer's loud cry, 
The merry music o'er us, when 

The birds go flitting by. 

A perfect wealth of blossoms fair 

Delights where'er we go, 
While pink and crimson ramblers rare 

In rich profusion grow. 

We see, from dawn to close of day, 

The water's changing hue, 
From silvery sheen to leaden grey, 

Through shades of green and blue. 

While on the bright blue vault above 
The floating cloudlets play 

We watch their fleeting shadows move 
Across the fields and bay. 

6 







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The bay life next attracts the eye; 

The ferries come and go, 
And little boats go gliding by, 

With sails as white as snow. 

While larger craft are also seen, 

Of many types they be, 
On trade or pleasure bent, between 

The cities and the sea. 

A warship fleet patrols the bay 

And anchors here at night, 
Their many searchlights then display 

Their shifting shafts of light. 

While from the fort, when day is done, 

Or Phoebus' rays appear, 
The evening or the morning gun 

Comes booming on the ear. 

The soft, cool air on zephyr wings, 

Thus gently floating o'er, 
The stronger breeze the ocean brings 

Our drooping frames restore. 

By southeast winds to action stirred 

The driving mists surround; 
From off some rocky ledge is heard 

The foghorn's mournful sound. 

We drive the winding roads along 
And round the breezy point; 

The sweet, clear notes of wild birds' song, 
The scented air anoint. 



Oh what a glorious view is here 

Of land and sea and bay; 
See yonder, Narragansett Pier, 

Point Judith far away. 

Before us lies the Beaver Tail, 

The ocean rolls afar; 
We see the lights, the distant sail, 

The steamer on the bar. 

From side to side the eye may roam 
Where, high above the sands, 

On many a rounded cliff, a home 
With charming outlook stands. 

Companions strange at times consort, 

An instance here recount, 
A Quaker home, a frowning fort 

Adjacent cliffs surmount. 

Familiar names our senses greet 
Where Friendly homes are ranged; 

We marvel not if friends we meet 
And greetings are exchanged. 

Here Strawbridge, Clothief, linked of old; 

With Wharton, Lovering too, 
And Lippincott, with more untold 

The Quaker leaning show. 

So many homes of honest wealth, 

So many names well-known, 
'Twould seem that Philadelphia's self 

Had made this place her own. 

8 



But more than all the charms we see, 
The one that brings most joy; 

The cunning ways and happy glee 
Of our sweet baby boy. 

The latest jewel in the shrine; 

A home where love is king, 
And wit and courtesy combine 

Life's truest joys to bring. 

Indeed so keen is our delight, 

So many charms unfold; 
So much to please the ear and sight, 

It cannot all be told. 

This brief description must suffice 

To prove our right to say, 
There is no region quite so nice 

As Narragansett Bay. 

But go where'er we will; the sea, 
The mountain, wood and farm, 

Have each that something which shall be 
Its own peculiar charm. 



II. 

NEWPORT. 

Fair Newport! long the goal of our desires 
At last attained. We tread thy ancient soil 
Laved by the broad Atlantic's restless waves 
And by this lovely bay; thy quaint old street, 
That bears the name of that proud stream, 

whereon 
The ships of every clime their flags display. 
We love thy narrow streets and quaint old homes, 
A somewhat foreign air pervades them all. 

With eager haste we seek the old stone mill 
That shares with fashion in the city's fame; 
It rises yonder, shrined in leafy gloom. 
What wert thou, hoary relic of the past? 
What people built thee? for what use designed? 
Some think brave Eric raised thee, Eric the Red, 
That sturdy Norseman bold, who reached these 

shores 
Long ere Columbus ventured o'er the main. 
But sure no mill the hardy Viking reared, 
In that far time men ground not thus their grain. 
Then others say, a fort for strong defense; 
But wherefore then so many entrance ways? 
And why these massive walls? needless to cope 
With Indian arrow, tomahawk or brand. 
In later days maturer thought has set 
The seventeenth century as the epoch, when 
Thy stones were laid, and claims thou wert a mill; 
But doubt is over all ; thou standest there 
A grim memorial of a by-gone day; 
A mystery shrouds thee that may ne'er be solved. 

10 



We drive along the stately avenue 

Where fashion, wealth and beauty congregate, 

And listen to our guide's descriptive talk 

With gossip mixed, that now and then reveals 

Some inside life of Fashion's Votaries. 

We see the noted cliff walk, said to be 

The walk most beautiful of all the world; 

It may be so; if all the vast expanse 

Of sea and sky; the architecture grand; 

The velvet lawns sloped to the cliff's sheer edge 

With brilliant flowers and foliage interspersed; 

If all of these combined can make a place 

Supremely beautiful — the claim is just. 

Ah Newport! thou art beautiful indeed, 

For wealth and fashion claimed thee for their 

own 
And made thee Queen of all seaside resorts. 
And yet; — thy time encrusted old stone tower, 
Thy quaint and narrow streets, thy cosy homes, 
Thy glorious bay, with all its busy life, 
Thy elms, New England's glory and her pride, 
Thy wealth of flowers, the way provided those 
Who walk in humbler paths to yet enjoy 
A free approach to ocean air and wave, 
Which bring renewed strength to those who toil; 
All these, to us, a greater charm possess 
Than that display of ostentatious wealth 
Which crowns the summits of thy sea-girt cliffs. 



11 



III. 

MANOMET. 

Our feet have pressed the sacred stone 
Whereon the Pilgrim Fathers trod, 

That winter morning drear and lone, 
They ventured o'er from bleak Cape Cod 

To found anew an English home 
On this far distant, unknown land, 

Where Freedom might not fear to come 
And join with Conscience, hand in hand. 

A night they tarried on the way, 

A friendly island shelter lent 
That near the long-sought mainland lay, 

An anxious Sabbath there they spent. 

What soil more honored than the ground 
Their dauntless footsteps pressed of yore; 

Can dearer names than those be found 
Priscilla, Alden, Standish bore. 

But Plymouth, 'tis not ours to tell 
Thy fame that hath so oft been sung, 

To portray all thy glories well 
Would tax the powers of pen or tongue. 

To other calls our hearts respond, 
In other paths our feet are set; 

A welcome warm awaits beyond 
The pine clad hills of Manomet. 

12 



Our friends' delightful home we reach, 
Which freely air and sunshine shares; 

Set fifty feet above the beach, 
Its name "The Overlook" well bears. 

It stands amid a thicket growth, 

With flowering grasses knee-deep high, 

While low-growth pine and maple both 
Perfume the air and please the eye. 

To many a blue — and bayberry bush, 
Wild cherry and scrub-oak succeed, 

And, half concealed, amid the brush 
In various ways the footpaths lead. 

The golden rod and laurel green, 
White aster and the yarrow too, 

And ragged robin all are seen, 

With many more, the thicket through. 

The varying seasons change the view, 
'Twas but a few brief weeks before, 

The wild rose with its lovely hue 
Had tinted all the region o'er. 

But while we tell of tree and flower 
The birds must not forgotten be 

That with their music charm each hour 
And gaily flit from tree to tree. 

The thrush's silver-warbling throat, 
The lark with song so free and light, 

The robin's loud and cheery note, 

The partridge, with its sweet "Bob White," 

13 



The catbird with its mimic skill, 
The bobolink, the bluebird, then, 

Though small, its place were hard to fill, 
Our restless, chatty friend, the wren, 

And many more, to us unknown, 
Whose music lingers on the air, 

Each moment some sweet, touching tone 
Is sounding in the thicket there. 

The dark blue bay before us lies, 
A thickly wooded slope between; 

While, otherwhere, our seeking eyes 
Are gladdened by the ocean green, 

The Gurnet lights, the Saquish head, 
The Point, the bluffs, the rocky beach; 

The smoke the warship's funnels shed 
As far as naked eye can reach. 

The fleet for several weeks has made 
A summer cruise to Provincetown, 

And every day the ships parade 
Adjacent waters up and down. 

Their thundering guns on practice bent 
The slumbering echoes oft awake, 

By sudden booms the air is rent 

So strong, at times, the houses shake. 

A bachelor's camp is in the woods, 
The genial owner proudly shows 

His hoarded wealth of household goods, 
His rare and costly curios; 

14 




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A gathering which is but a part 
Of rich collections he has made 

Of choicest fruits of Japan's art, 
Satsuma, cloissone and jade. 

'Twould seem a bit of old Japan 
Had drifted here amid the pines; 

'Tis very clear his fancy ran 
To rich and elegant designs. 

His closets, shelves and drawers, all 
Are filled as full as one may pack 

Of things for every need and call, 

With much a well-stocked house might lack. 

Nor is the "inner man" forgot, 

The creature comforts all are here, 

And chafing dish and pan and pot 
And stove betoken goodly cheer. 

'Twould seem 'twere hard a choice to make 

Of which utensil he should use 
When he would boil or stew or bake, 

So many there from which to choose. 

And then, when winds permit, at night, 
On many lines among the trees, 

To make the camp aglow with light, 
Are scores of lanterns, Japanese, 

Of many a size and shape and hue, 
Grotesque and fine in turn appear, 

They conjure up a magic view 

As though Aladdin's lamp were here. 

15 



With hammock, tent and bungalow, 
These all excite delight unfeigned; 

Tis strange to find so rare a show 
Within a seaside wood contained. 

Where'er we turn some charm we find; 

Before, the sea with jewels set; 
Around, the wooded slopes; behind, 

The dark green hills of Manomet. 

The air so clear we may discern 
The Cape Cod coast across the bay, 

When thitherward our eyes we turn, 
Though nearly twenty miles away. 

A favorite spot is on the bluff 
That overlooks the shining bay, 

To watch the waves, now smooth, now rough. 
To see the merry bathers play, 

The purple headlands jutting out, 
The curving sand beach far below, 

The pleasure boats that glide about, 
And trading ships that come and go. 

And when the evening tide draws near, 
What glorious sunsets charm the eye 

As all the varied tints appear, 
That flush the vast expanse of sky. 

The clouds reflect the wondrous glow 
Like purple islands fringed with gold, 

While eastward, sombre, silent, slow, 
The shadows of the night unfold. 

16 



The darkness slowly settles down, 
Familiar landmarks lose their shape; 

Yon line of lights is Provincetown, 

The flashlight gleams from o'er the Cape. 

And now the moon her radiance sheds, 
Through fleecy clouds she makes her way, 

Or, from a cloudless heaven, spreads 
A silver pathway o'er the bay. 

And when her disk no more doth light 
The great expanse of cloudless sky, 

The stars present a glorious sight 
To awe and fascinate the eye. 

Few fairer scenes the brush has limned, 
With rapture we'll remember yet, 

When time some other joys has dimmed, 
The many charms of Manomet. 

A fascination leads us there 

To view entranced the prospect fine, 

And breathe the health-restoring air, 
The winds that blow o'er sea and pine. 

What happy weeks are these we spend, 
Conventional ways are laid aside, 

The efforts of our dear ones tend 
That every wish be gratified. 

So nearly equal are the ties, 

So close the bonds of friendship grow, 

We know not where a difference lies, 
Our thoughts are passing to and fro 

17 



The house that mid the farmlands stands, 
The cottage in the thicket set, — 

The blue-eyed pet on Jamestown's sands — 
The black-eyed boy at Manomet. 



The days roll by, the time is near 
When we must tear ourselves away, 

And leave these scenes and friends so dear, 
The ocean and the sun-kissed bay. 

Our minds are filled with pictures, yet 
Though much is seen, we also know 

The more one sees of Manomet 

The more its charm and interest grow. 

That one more pleasure might attend 
Our last night there — an honor paid! 

Our neighbor of the camp, and friend, 
A fine display of lanterns made. 

And so, with hearts that fondly yearn 
To voice our thanks for happy days, 

Reluctantly, next morn, we turn 
To other and quite different ways. 

From Plymouth soon away we roll 
To Boston next our course we bend, 

The Public Library our goal, 

And there a pleasant hour we spend. 

Next morning we are off again, 

Through pleasant suburbs quickly sped, 

Despite a badly needed rain, 
To Salem and to Marblehead. 

18 







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IV. 

SALEM AND MARBLEHEAD. 

In Salem much of note one meets: 
Of busy stores and elm-arched streets 

The old Witch House as well; 
The famed Peabody Museum too, 
Of which we took a hasty view, 

'Twould take too long to tell. 

The latter, by itself, indeed 

A day of patient toil would need, 

Its wonders just to see; 
The spoils of geologic times, 
And objects rare of many climes, 

Of earth and air and sea. 

The House of Seven Gables, thought 
To be the one that Hawthorne wrought 

A classic tale into, 
But lately by his son 'twas said, 
His father, questioned on this head, 

Had no one house in view. 

But Salem in the public mind 
Is almost wholly intertwined 

With tales of witchcraft lore, 
Of men and women doomed to death 
By rope or stake, that reckless breath 

Of phantasy gave o'er. 

But to her credit, now 'tis said, 
That though a score the fury fed 
Before the tide had turned 

19 



And Salem to her senses came, 
No woman with a witch's fame 
Within her bounds was burned. 

Old Salem long has passed away; 
The Salem of a later day 

Progressive, handsome, rich; 
The magnates of finance and trade — 
What changes have those wizards made 

In the "City of the Witch!" 

Then Marblehead, that quaint old town, 
Whose crooked streets go up and down; 

Its yacht-filled harbor too; 
And here an unknown pleasure waits, 
The Yacht Club of the Eastern States 

Has here its rendezvous. 

Its hundred yachts make quite a show, 
And now the freshening winds that blow 

The spreading sails invite; 
One time we counted full three-score 
That sailed the sparkling waters o'er, 

A captivating sight! 

A striking charm has Marblehead 
Of which so much might well be said, 

Its rock formation strange; 
Its seamed and trap-streaked layers lie 
In rugged masses heaped up high 

With tints that often change. 

But time will not permit to go 
To all the noted scenes we know 
That Marblehead contains; 

20 



We wander Old Fort Sewell through 
And from its walls the prospect view 
But more, much more remains. 

The quaint old town and rocky shore 
Are unlike aught we have seen before 

On this Atlantic side. 
We leave well pleased that we have been 
On this brief visit to the scene 

Of "Skipper Ireson's Ride." 

A pleasant day, enjoyed with zest, 
A cool ride back, a good night's rest, 

An early morning walk; 
With many wishes gratified 
Our leave we take, — a six hour's ride 

And we are in New York. 



21 



V. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

And now a little rest we take, 

The Penington our pleasant home; 

And needful preparation make 
For other pleasures yet to come. 

Refreshed and rested, after tea, 
We take a quiet walk around 

The neighboring streets, and first, to see 
The pleasant meeting house and ground. 

Across the Place, a pretty Square, 
Of Stuyvesant in honor named, 

Where crowds enjoy the evening air 
From homes by summer heat enflamed. 

Then First-day opens calm and sweet, 
We would renew the spirit's power; 

With New York Friends we gladly meet 
And sit with them the meeting hour. 

A little time for silent prayer, 

For thankfulness or self -research ; 

While borne in on the summer air 
Come anthems from a nearby church. 

And then, the spoken word, with power; 

A closing sermon low and sweet; 
The meeting o'er we spend an hour 

While friends in pleasant converse meet. 

22 



To Riverside to see the view 

And Tomb, next morn, our aim must be, 
The Natural History Museum too 

Is what we most desire to see. 

To that our visit first is made, 

We pace its endless halls for hours, 

The countless objects there displayed 
To tell would far exceed our powers. 

Sufficient time the whole to see, 

A thoughtful mind to aid the view, 

Would not alone a pleasure be 
A liberal education too! 

The Tomb of Grant! what scenes revive 
At mention of our Chieftain's name; 

It needs no fane to keep alive 

The memory of his deathless fame 

To us who risked, in humbler ways, 
With him whatever might befall, 

Or saw those glorious April days 
When Appomattox ended all. 

But still we view with conscious pride 
The shrine a grateful nation gave 

To him, to whom, o'er all who tried, 
'Twas given that Nation's life to save. 

A Soldier he, of matchless fame, 

That party strife and hate might cease 

Could yet in love to all proclaim 

In words that live, "Let us have Peace." 

23 



We softly tread, the breath abate, 
While gazing in the crypt, where he 

In solemn though in princely state 
Awaits the final "Reveille!" 



And now with deeply grateful heart 
For all that's past, we seek no more; 

For Philadelphia we depart 
And our long holiday is o'er. 

We love the hills, the woods, the beach, 
Through places old and new to roam, 

But glad are we to safely reach 

The City of our Choice and — Home. 



24 



Threw 



NATURE. 

O Nature! as the years speed by, 
The wearied spirit longs for rest; 

It yearns within thy arms to lie, 
And lay its head on thy fair breast. 

The crowded street, the busy mart, 

The maddening throngs that surge and roll, 
A burden lay upon the heart, 

And cast a shadow on the soul. 

The pomp, the pride, the greed of life, 

The thirst for wealth and place and power; 

The restless, fierce, relentless strife, 
Regardless of the fleeting hour, 

The spirit crush, its senses cloy; 

It spurns the whole insensate round, 
And turns to thee and finds with joy 

What contrasts in thy realm are found. 

For crowded street — the flower strewn mead; 

For busy mart— the sun-flecked grove; 
Contentment takes the place of greed, 

And jealousy gives way to love! 

It leaves the struggling world behind 
And wins from care a glad release; 

And, like a nestling child, will find 
On thy fond bosom, rest and peace. 



25 



THE APPROACH OF SPRING. 

Spring is near! on bush and tree 

Early buds are swelling; 
From the throats of happy birds 

Gladsome notes are welling. 

Winter's brown and yellow robe 

Changes color daily; 
Lawn and meadow wake to life, 

Grass is greening gaily. 

Bluer skies and softer airs 

Hint the coming glory; 
Countless signs at ev'ry turn 

Tell the same sweet story. 

Daffodils and jonquils pale 
Bloom in sheltered places; 

Inmates sweet of woodland glades 
Lift their tender faces. 

South winds blowing o'er the glebe 
Perfumes soft are bearing; 

All things breathe the fragrant air, 
Nature's incense sharing. 

Soul of man, too, feels the spell, 
Tuning with the weather; 

Human hearts and Nature's heart 
Beat and throb together. 

Sounds of life in myriad forms 
Woods and fields are hearing; 

Nature wakes from winter's sleep; 
Spring, sweet Spring, is nearing! 

26 



TO J. R. H. 



On receiving a copy of "The Brandyurine" 



Dear Friend, I thank thee for the book thou sent, 
Which, in sweet verse and pictured page, por- 
trays 
That lovely river on whose banks were spent 
Thy boyhood's days. 

Though other lands and scenes be fair and bright, 
Though beauty meet the eye where'er we roam, 
There is no other spot that equals quite 
Our boyhood's home. 

And, unsurpassed by any stream that springs 
From artist's vision or from poet's dream, 
I marvel not that to thy heart still clings 
Thy boyhood's stream. 

And some sweet spot in nature hold we all 
In fond remembrance as time intervenes, 
So to each reader may thy lines recall 
Some cherished scenes. 



27 



THANKSGIVING. 

We thank thee, Father, for thy loving care 
Through all the varied round of fleeting years; 

Were health or sickness, grief or joy our share 
Thou buoyed our hopes or thou dispelled our 
fears. 

From tempting lures that oft the spirit blight, 
Or sear the heart, thy watchful care pre- 
served ; 
Or thou didst gently turn our feet aright 

Whene'er, in weakness, from the path they 
swerved. 

When skies were dark, the outlook wild and bleak 
Then wert thou near to aid each wandering 
child ; 
If faith were dimmed, if heart and hope grew 
weak 
Thou set a beacon in the path — and smiled. 

And thou dost smile upon us day by day, 

And fill our cup with blessings rich and rare; 

And if we fully would thy love repay, 

Our every deed were praise, each thought a 
prayer. 

If life has not been all a pathway bright, — 
Its ways not always smooth, — unflecked its 
skies ; — 
If there were sorrow, — trials not few nor light, — 
If some have blanched the cheek, and dimmed 
the eyes, 

28 



And almost stilled the heart, —yet through them all 
Was heard the loving mandate, "Trust in me": 

While on the ear the whispered tones would fall, 
"For such as is your day your strength shall be." 

We ask not why that boundless heart of thine 
With blessings loads us, far our needs above; 

But we are grateful for the gifts divine 

That flow, unceasing, from that fount of love. 

And what if there were longings unfulfilled, 
A weight upon the soul that naught could lift; 

We bless the Love, the cup o'erflowing filled, 
And trust the Wisdom that withheld the gift. 

Not all our deeds bear witness to the Light, 
Not all our thoughts are such that thou canst 
own, 

For we are mortal, and our strength too slight 
To win the victory when we strive alone. 

But thou art merciful and wise and just, 
Our limitations all are known to thee; 

And "Thou rememberest that we are dust," 
That weak and futile our best aims must be. 

Thou lookest on the heart, to thee are known 
Its aims, its loves, the life it fain would live; 

By these thou judgest, and by these alone, 
The weakness of the flesh thou wilt forgive. 

We know not, Father, what of good or ill, 
In years remaining, to our lot may fall; 

We only ask that thou be with us still, 

And trust, to thee, ourselves, our times, our 
all! 

29 



EASTER. 

At Eastertide the world believes 
The great Redeemer rose again, 
Was seen and heard and known of men 

And comfort in this faith receives. 

The victory won o'er sin and death 
He came again unto his own; 
His sufferings for their sins atone; 

He saves them with his dying breath. 

So ever since that sacred morn 

The world has held this day divine; 
And recognized it as the sign 

And symbol of a life new-born. 

With this deep faith in hearts of men 
Doth Nature constant union keep; 
And, waking from her death-like sleep, 

Now springs into new life again. 

And in this change to living green ; — 
This growth of leaf and bud and flower;— 
In this regenerating power 

A type of the new birth is seen. 

So may we, Lord, thy mercy through, 
To higher, holier states reborn; 
This glorious resurrection morn 

In thy full life our lives renew. 



30 



COME, YE CHILDREN. 

Come, O ye children! for lonely are we; 
Come with your blithesome hearts, come in your glee; 
Come in the flush of exuberant joy, 
Light-hearted maiden and fun-loving boy. 

Yours are the spirits that gladden the earth; 
Fountains unsealed of hilarious mirth! 
Come with your prattle and innocent arts 
Chasing the gloom from our care-laden hearts. 

Now let the many- voiced chorus arise; 
Let the walls echo with jubilant cries; 
Fear not your fill of enjoyment to take, 
We will be young again, too, for your sake. 

Little wee toddlers with questioning eyes, 
Brown as the berries or blue as the skies, 
You, too, shall share in our festival day, 
Swelling the fun in your infantile way. 

Strange little mortals! how often we doubt 
What are your busy brains thinking about; 
Why, in your eyes is such earnestness shown, 
Looking so searchingly into our own? 

What is the subtle, infallible test 
Telling you surely on which hearts to rest? 
Linked to them fast by invisible chains 
Only the closest of friendship remains. 

What is the source of this intimate bond? 
Why do our spirits so quickly respond? 
Whence is the joy that is thrilling us through? 
Can it be angels are working through you? 

31 



Come, then, O children, your presence imparts 
Joy to our spirits and warmth to our hearts; 
Quickens our pulses, and brightens our eyes, 
Scatters the clouds that o'ershadow our skies. 

Stars that are lighting the darkness of night, — 
Flowers that are blooming in fields of delight- 
Gems that are sparkling in festival throngs, — 
Birds that are warbling their exquisite songs- 
Blessings of light and of color and tone, — 
Blessings uncounted we gratefully own; 
Yet, of the gifts that God's bounty lets fall, 
Children are, surely, the richest of all. 



32 



EVENING. 

Afar from the town with its rush and roar, 
In the fresh cool air of the countryside, 

We rest, when the toil of the day is o'er 
In the peaceful hush of the evening-tide. 

The shadows are lengthening fast that fall 
On shimmering grass and on waving grain; 

The kine for the hand of the milkmaid call, 
And robin is singing his joyous strain. 

The tops of the woodlands are tipped with gold, 
Like crested waves on a wind-swept sea; 

The gathering shadows the vales enfold, 
And silence is brooding o'er field and lea. 

The sky that was blushing in roseate tints 
Has changed through a myriad hues to gray; 

And over the hill-top a moonbeam glints 

As fades in the west the last flickering ray. 

Then Night, with its holy and peaceful calm, 
Descends to the earth on its noiseless wings; 

And sweet is the precious and healing balm 
To wearied and suffering hearts it brings. 



33 



A DAY WITH NATURE. 

Oh, Nature! Mother of us all! 

Whose love fills all our wants, 
Our feet, obedient to thy call, 

Now seek thy well-loved haunts. 

Thy woods and hills and shady dells, 

Thy leafy lanes we prize; 
Thy flowery meads and crystal wells, 

Thy mountains and thy skies. 

The fruited orchards bending low, 

And fields of waving grain, 
The Summer's sun and Winter's snow, 

The Spring's life-giving rain, — 

All these are thine, and thou art ours; 

We yield to thee our days, 
And seek, with dedicated powers, 

To know thee and thy ways. 

So, reverently, to-day we stand 

Mid many a rural scene, 
Where thou hast strewn with lavish hand 

Thy countless shades of green. 

The maples' ever varying tints 

Relieve the woodside gloom, 
And here and there among them glints 

The dogwood's snowy bloom. 

And deep within each quiet dell, 

With bending ferns above, 
There, nestling in their beauty, dwell 

The wildlings of thy love. 

34 



Each feathered songster round us yields 

To joy its pulsing throat, 
While overhead in azure fields 

The fleecy cloudlets float. 

The Spring-tide perfumes round us flow, 
We breathe the cool, crisp air, 

And, quickened by the vernal glow, 
In Nature's new-birth share. 

Oh, happy day! with favoring skies 
And charm of sight and sound, 

And merry hearts and laughing eyes 
And beauty all around! 

And knowing this — that all we see 

Thy love and care afford — 
Our heartfelt thanks go up to thee, 

Our own and Nature's Lord! 



35 



DOLOBRAN. 

Suggested by a visit to Clement A. Griscom'i 
famed Wild Garden, near Haverford, Pa. 



Fair Dolobran! thou crown'st our hopes — 

Thou Art and Nature's child, 
With stately homes and sunny slopes 

And garden — wondrous wild. 

What marvel here the eye awaits, 

What years of patient toil; 
Ah! who shall say how many States 

Gave tribute to thy soil? 

From Californian grove and field 

To far off rocky Maine, 
From where Wisconsin's beavers build, 

From wood and field and plain, 

Are countless wild flowers gathered here 

On hillside, in ravine: 
No species known but here appear, 

No vacant spot is seen. 

With creeping growth and trailing vine 

Each rugged rock is dressed, 
While drooping ferns profusely join 

Their beauty to the rest. 

Beyond, is wealth of brilliant flowers 

Enhanced by human skill: 
Here, Nature in her quiet hours 

Works out her own sweet will. 

36 



Though oft the bloom induced by art 
The wond'ring fancy warms, 

Naught draws so close to Nature's heart 
As these, her simpler forms. 



37 



NIGHT. 

How sweet it is at close of day, 
Our forces waning with the light, 

To turn from toil and care away 
And wait the advent of the night. 

The evening meal, the social hour 

With home-folk, friends, or kindred dear, 

Restore the body's drooping power, 
The spirit's clouded vision clear. 

Within, the hearth-fire comfort sheds, 

Without, the moon's pale radiance floods: 

Now Night her sable mantle spreads 
Bedecked with countless silver studs. 

Beneath her silent, solemn sway, 

Both they who laugh and they who weep, 
Who hail or dread the coming day, 

Now woo her gentle handmaid — Sleep! 

O friendly Night! how blest the man 
Who, free from care or grief or pain, 

Can rise, refreshed from thy brief span, 
To battle with the world again. 



38 



THE BLIND GIRL'S LAMENT. 



(From the German.) 



I weep not that from me is hidden 

The spring's fresh green, the floweret's bloom, 
Or that the world so bright to others 

To me is ever steeped in gloom; 
I do not grieve that, in my blindness, 

All beauty's beams, the sunlight's glow, 
And all the fair earth's shining glory, 

To me is darkness only, No! 

Not that the mountain's lofty summit, 

The ocean and its foam's white gleam, 
The fury of the storm-swept billows, 

Are to the blind girl but a dream; 
That yonder star-bejewelled heaven, 

The moon's pale beams that softly flow, 
The rainbow's many-tinted splendor, 

Are naught to me but darkness, No! 

They tell me that the loveliest flowers 

That ever bloomed beneath the sun 
Are not the ones I stoop to welcome, 

Whose fragrant breath my heart has won; 
They say the birds that sing so sweetly, 

Whose songs are founts of joy to me, 
Are never those whose brilliant plumage 

Brings rapture to the eyes that see. 

My little brother loves to lead me 
With careful hand from field to field, 

And pluck for me the choicest blossoms 
The sweet, pure, fragrant violets yield; 

39 



Then home returning, on the threshold 

The mother-love I fondly own; 
Her very nearness love outbreathing, 

Her every word, her every tone. 

When, pressed against his loving bosom, 

My father's arms around me close, 
"Dearest of all on earth," he calls me, 

What is the wish that through me glows? 
Oh, that I could but burst asunder 

The night these eyes have ever known 
And see them, once, in whose affection 

I must both joy and sadness own. 



40 



THE ENCHANTED HARP. 



(From the German.) 



In days long since departed, 

On far off eastern ground, 
In a wizard's ruined cavern 

A magic harp was found; 
And round its golden framework, 

That those may read who can, 
In finely graven letters 

A simple legend ran. 

"I am a priceless treasure 

A secret power binds; 
Who frees me from my bondage 

A lasting blessing finds; 
But only he can win it 

Whose song, with power so filled — 
The Theme in me awakens 

That never shall be stilled" 

Where once a feast was holding, 

Three minstrel bards appear; 
The harp's dark spell to sunder 

They came from far and near: 
And two were old and skillful, 

Masters in Song I ween; 
The third was but a stripling 

With shy and timid mien. 

The foremost struck the harp strings 
With skillful hands and strong; 

41 



With Grecian Gods and Muses 

He glorified his song. 
Enraptured shouts and praises 

A thousand throats outstream; 
But ne'er that song's proud measure 

Awoke the hidden theme. 1 

Then came the second minstrel, 

His eye was clear and bright; 
He sang in noble manner 

Of duty and of right. 
Then earnest men pressed forward 

Their gratitude to own; 
But, with the singer's accents, 

There ceased the harp's sweet tone. 5 

Then seized the younger minstrel 

The harp, with modest mien ; 
So poor and worn his raiment; 

His robe so coarse and mean; 
But ah! his face — how noble! 

In it was seen combined 
A woman's gentle sweetness, 

A strong and manly mind. 

He sang with that deep fervor 

That inmost souls doth move, 
With joy and pain commingled, 

A noble song of Love! 
He sang of human-kindness, 

So constant, pure and true; 
Of love so deep and holy 

That man to Godhead drew. 

1 Hellenism. 2 Judaism. 

42 



The throng was hushed to silence!- 

When ceased the last sweet word 
The harp's dark ban was broken, 

Its rich full tones were heard. 
The Song the singer rendered 

The Universe has filled; 
That Song is never ended, 

That Theme is never stilled! 3 



3 Christianity. 

43 



DO IT NOW! 

Is there a task that should be done? — 
If time or place or means allow, 

Let it not wait to-morrow's sun, 
Put it behind you — do it now! 

Is there a debt that should be paid 
Of money — kindness — honor? how 

Shall the stern duty be delayed? 

Sponge out the reckoning — pay it now! 

Is there a word that should be said 
To warm a heart or clear a brow; 

Or light in some dark place to shed? 
Wait not a minute — say it now! 

Yes, ever as through life you run, 
As means or place or time allow, 

When there's a deed that should be done, 
This be your motto — Do it now! 



44 



THOU ART LIKE UNTO A FLOWER. 



{ Du bist wie eine blume" (Heine.) 



Like unto a flower thou art, 
So pure and fair and sweet: 

Gazing on thee, in my heart, 
Sadness and longing meet. 

I would lay my hands on thy head 
And pray God's grace endure 

To shield thee from evil and keep 
Thee sweet and fair and pure. 



45 



TROLLEYING. 

Do you travel by trolley? Tis excellent fun; 
No better return for your money when done 

Than in trolleying over the land. 
You travel through orchards and cornfields and 

such, 
With highways and byways you're always in touch, 

And pleasure is ever at hand. 

No deep, rocky cut hides the scene from your view; 
No tunnel, pitch dark, to go rumbling through; 

All is open air, breezes and light. 
You whirl through each village, you glide through 

each town, 
You fly o'er the country, both uphill and down, 

And you sleep in a good bed at night. 

The flowers grow right near you, the fruits hang 

close by, 
You may capture a twig from a tree as you fly, 

And you ride at close range with the plow. 
You swing round a barnyard, sometimes you go 

through ; 
Of the cool, shady barn, you may catch a swift 
view, 
And a whiff of sweet hay from the mow. 

There's the railway, the auto, the wheel and what 

not, 
The tallyho, carriage, the trap and the yacht 

To skim o'er the land or the sea; 
But of all the fine ways by which one may roam, 
And still with Dame Nature be nearest "at home," 

The trolley's the method for me. 

46 



APRIL. 

April! Maid of smiles and tears; 
Alternating hopes and fears; 

Fickle Maid! or good or ill — 
Let thy wavering course be run, 
Be it rain or be it sun, 

Fickle Maid! we love thee still. 

April! Maid of tear and smile 
How thou dost our hearts beguile 

With thy sunshine and thy showers; 
Laughing — weeping — grave or gay — 
Changeful ever — have thy way, 

Harbinger of May's sweet flowers! 

April! Maid of smiles and tears; 
Alternating hopes and fears; 

Fickle Maiden! good or ill — 
Howsoe'er thy course may run, 
Bring it rain or bring it sun, 

April! we will love thee still. 



47 



NORWEGIAN STAVE SONG. 

Improvised verses sung by a young man and young woman as 
an introduction to the "Stave Dance." This and the "Broken 
Wing" which follows are translated from the Norwegian story 
of "Gunnar" by H. H. Boyesen. 

He. There stands a birch in the lightsome lea, 

She. In the lightsome lea, 

He. So fair she stands in the sunlight free, 

She. In the sunlight free. 

Both. So fair she stands in the sunlight free. 

She. High on the mountain there stands a pine, 

He. There stands a pine, 

She. So strong it grows, so tall and so fine, 

He. So tall and so fine. 

Both. So strong it grows, so tall and so fine. 

He. A maiden I know, as fair as the day, 

She. As fair as the day, 

He. Shines like the birch in the sunlight's play, 

She. In the sunlight's play. 

Both. Shines like the birch in the sunlight's play. 

She. I know a lad in the Spring's glad light, 

He. In the Spring's glad light, 

She. Stands like the pine on the mountain 's height, 

He. On the mountain's height. 

Both. Stands like the pine on the mountain 's height. 

He. How bright and how blue are the sunny skies, 

She. Are the sunny skies, 

He. But brighter and bluer that maiden's eyes, 

She. That maiden's eyes, 

Both. But brighter and bluer that maiden's eyes. 

48 



She. And his are as deep as the fjord I know, 

He. As the fjord I know, 

She. Wherein the heavens their glory show, 

He. Their glory show. 

Both. Wherein the heavens their glory show. 

He. Birds seek the glades in the morning dawn, 

She. In the morning dawn, 

He. My thoughts to that maid on air are borne, 

She. On air are borne. 

Both. My thoughts to that maid on air are borne. 

She. The moss clings fast to rock and to stone, 

He. To rock and to stone, 

She. So clings my love unto him alone, 

He. Unto him alone. 

Both. So clings my love unto him alone. 

He. Each brook sings its song, 'tis ever the same, 

She. Ever the same, 

He. My heart sings ever that maiden's name, 

She. That maiden's name. 

Both. My heart sings ever that maiden's name. 

She. The plover has only a single tone, 

He. A single tone, 

She. As my life I love him, and him alone, 

He. And him alone. 

Both. As my life I love him, and him alone. 

He. As to the fjord the rivers flow, 

She. The rivers flow, 

He. So may our lives together go, 

She. Together go. 

Both. So may our lives together go. 

49 



THE BROKEN WING. 



From the Norwegian of H. H. Boyesen. 



The sparrow sits on the roof edge low 
And chirps the summer day long: 

The swallow bathes in sunlight glow 
And lifts to heaven her song. 

The sparrow 'neath the sheltering roof 

Buildeth his cosy nest: 
The swallow rests far better aloof 

At ease on the storm-wind's breast. 

The swallow far o'er mountain and wave 
From Eternity's isle may fly, 

Where day knows nothing of dawn or eve 
And summer never shall die. 

The sparrow's world is a narrow way, 
He knows not that sunlit shore; 

He feedeth his young the livelong day 
And careth for nothing more. 



Now spring was breathing its healing breath, 

Life teemed in the earth and sky; 
Fled were darkness and cold and death 

That saddened the days gone by. 

The swallows came from lands of light 
And built in the towers their nest, 

That their young might have unhindered sight 
And in security rest. 

50 



They saw the sun in its glory rise, 
The clouds dispersed by the gale; 

They longed to bathe in the azure skies 
As for wind, the slackened sail. 

One morning when chimed the Sabbath bell 
And the whole world seemed to sing; 

A nestling soared toward heaven — and fell 
To earth with a broken wing. 

But summer waneth; the swallows seek 
The far away warmth and light: 

Alas! for one that, wounded and weak, 
Cannot join them in their flight. 

And pity, tenfold, the man — afire 
With longings for light and spring, 

Who cannot achieve his heart's desire — 
But halts with a broken wing. 



51 



SHEW ME THY WAYS, O LORD. 



Psalm xxv : U* 



Shew me thy ways, O Lord; shew me thy way; 
Lead thou my feet aright, let them not stray; 
Dark is the path ahead, dangers surround, 
Under thy lead alone safety is found. 

Dire are the foes that are lying in wait, 
Leave not my soul to their malice and hate; 
Teach me thy paths, O Lord; keep me therein 
Safe from the lurings and bondage of sin. 

Weak is the flesh but the spirit would soar; 
Faint is the heart but it yearneth the more; 
Fain would it drink of the fount of thy love, 
Fain the full depths of thy tenderness prove. 

Shew me thy ways, Lord: be thou my guide; 
O let me walk with thee safe at thy side; 
Hold me, if worthy I prove, to thy breast, 
There, only there, can the weary soul rest. 



52 



GO YE ALSO AND WORK IN THE 
VINEYARD. 



Matthew xx:Jf. 



The Father hath need of thee; why then delay? 
Forget not the warning to "Work, while it's day; 
The night cometh quickly when no one can work:" 
And cease from this moment thy duty to shirk. 

The Father hath need of us; each hath a share 
Of work, in his vineyard, of culture and care: 
Unnumbered the chances that lie within reach 
To counsel, to solace, to warn or to teach. 

Diverse are the gifts he hath given to man, 
And each hath its part in his marvelous plan; 
Through channels as wide may their influence fall, 
The same guiding Spirit is over them all. 

Our lips may not burn with the touch of the coals; 
Our tongues may not voice the desire of our souls ; 
If Love be the rule of each transient hour 
Our lives may be sermons of vitalized power. 

But labor we must, there is no other way 
To earn the reward at the close of the day: 
Whate'er the result — be it greater or less — 
The Lord of the Vineyard the effort will bless. 

There's work of some nature for each one to do; 
Some work in the vineyard for me and for you : 
Let each, as we gratefully answer the call, 
Rejoice that the Master hath need of us all. 

53 



"GATEWAY BEAUTIFUL." 

Loyal class of 'Eighty-nine! 
Fame unsullied long be thine 
That thy scattered ranks contain 
Those who love their fellow-men. 

Riches often steel the heart; 
Sunder nearest friends apart; 
Dwarf the spirit; warp the soul; 
Making selfish ends the goal. 

Hearts there are unspoiled by gold, 
Deem it but a trust they hold: 
Greed is not the only rule; 
Witness — "Gateway Beautiful." 

Warm — the heart that saw the need ; 
Quick — the mind the plan conceived; 
Blest — the purse that bore the cost; 
Wealth so spent is never lost. 

Build we not for just to-day, 
Love and beauty live for aye; 
Joy for evermore awaits 
All whose feet shall pass the gates. 

Swarthmore oft has cause to feel 
Grateful for the donor's zeal; 
May the bond of friendship last 
In the future as the past. 

Worthy son of gifted sire! 
May thy generous act inspire 
All who "Alma Mater" love; 
Let their deeds affection prove. 

54 



MAURICE RIVER. 

Gentle River! placid stream 
Subject meet for poet's theme; 

Winding through the meadows green 
Saw we ne'er a fairer scene. 

Flowing on through many a field 
By the rushes half concealed 

Who shall measure our delight 
When thy beauty met the sight. 

Flow thou gently on thy way 
To thy bourne in yonder bay, 

Where the cove that bears thy name 
Gives the luscious oyster fame. 

Ever as thy waters flow, 
Morning light and evening glow 

Both with added charm define 
All the beauty that is thine. 

While thy waters, changing oft, 
Now — glide onward, smooth and soft ; 

Then — another aspect wear 
And a gentle ripple bear. 

Far away thy course we trace 
Tracking thee from place to place; 

Schooner, tug or barge betray 
All thy devious, wand'ring way. 

55 



Here a quiet village lies 
Basking under summer skies; 

There a busy town is seen 
Hiding mid its leafy screen. 

Wheresoe'er our footsteps go, 
Rich in color wild-flowers grow; 

Beauty everywhere we see, 
Magnified, sweet stream, by thee. 

Floating on thy bosom fair 
Summer mornings, free from care, 

Breathing all the sweet perfume 
Fruiting trees and garden bloom 

Cast upon the gentle breeze, 

What could heart of man more please. 

Flow thou on, oh gentle stream! 
Oft on winter nights we'll dream 

Of the happy hours we spent 
On thy banks in sweet content. 



56 



FRIENDSHIP 

The greatest charm of life depends, 
Considered from the human side, 

On love of family and friends; 

The love that lives, whate'er betide. 

True friendship takes no note of time; 

Nor years nor absence break the bond; 
It lives and grows in faith sublime 

And in that faith true hearts respond. 

With passing years the burdens grow 
As cares and sorrows multiply; 

But, loved and loving, all may know 
A fount of joy that ne'er runs dry. 

And so, dear friends, our hearts recall 
The memory dear of by-gone days; 

No shadow on our love can fall 

Though far apart our different ways. 

Our times of meeting are so few 
We hailed with joy the call to come 

And old time pleasures to renew 
Within your lovely ocean home. 



57 



C. Q. D. 

Straight to the mast on the headland high 
Standing outlined on the clear blue sky, 
Out of the waste of the trackless sea 
Cometh a signal of C. Q. D. 

Borne on the waves of the upper air, 
Calling for help in fear or despair; 
Help from brave hearts afloat or at home, — 
"We are in danger, come quickly, come!" 

Ships that are speeding their homeward way, 
Ships bound outward, too, chafe at delay; 
Let there come warning of direful need 
Courses are altered with needful speed. 

Craft from the home-ports, ships east and west 
Eagerly join in the anxious quest: 
Brave, loyal hearts on the doomed ship aid — 
Steering orders by "wireless" are made. 

"Starboard," or "port," "ahead," or "astern!"— 
Rescuing vessels thus readily learn 
Where the wreck lies, by the breakers laved — 
Hundreds of perishing lives are saved. 

Deeds such as these are enough to prove 
That the pulsing beat of the heart is love: 
And fear of the wild and treacherous sea 
Is calmed by the magic of C. Q. D. 



58 



ROBERT E. PEARY. 

'Twas three and twenty years ago 

That, young and strong and brave of heart, 
Unawed by danger, ice and snow, 

They saw a bold explorer start. 

Full oft that dauntless spirit thought 

To reach his self-appointed goal, 
That men three centuries had sought 

In vain to reach — the Northern Pole. 

But victory at last drew nigh: 

Success his ceaseless efforts crowned; 

From out the North there came a cry — 
Tell all the world the Pole is found. 

No matter now those weary years; 

The hardships braved, the storms that beat; 
No matter now the lone wife's tears; 

No matter now those maimed feet; — 

The search is o'er; the goal is won! 

The world does honor to his name; 
Until Creation's race is run 

So long shall live that hero's fame. 



59 



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